


Chapter 8.5

by grey2510, ThayerKerbasy



Series: Hell on Earth [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean'll be ok, Dean's getting better at talking about feelings, Deleted scene from Well Endowed, Drinking to Cope, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hell Trauma, Hellhounds, M/M, but he's not in a good place, past-Demon!Dean/Crowley (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-18 18:29:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11880315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/pseuds/grey2510, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/pseuds/ThayerKerbasy
Summary: Dean watched Juliet tear apart that vampire and suddenly he couldn't deal as the memories of being dragged to Hell rose and threatened to drown him...unless he could drown them first.





	Chapter 8.5

**Author's Note:**

> **Read at least through Chapter 8 of Well Endowed or this will make no sense!!**
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> We felt that Dean's trauma really needed to be addressed, but we wanted to keep Well Endowed lighter than this -- and it really does fit in the middle of a Juliet chapter, and breaking it up would have been weird. Anyway, we hope you enjoy it. :)

It hurt like a bitch, getting into the car again, the way the wound on his side pulled and burned. Juliet barked at him as he started Baby, and every time she did, he felt the bile rise in his throat. The Impala's wheels kicked up dirt and gravel as he tore down the road and he wrenched the glasses off of his face, tossing them on the seat beside him. Half of him didn't care if they shattered. The other half was terrified they did.

For all he fucking knew, Juliet would pop into his backseat and hunt him down. Or maybe she'd _Homeward Bound_ it back to the Bunker. Or maybe she'd fuck off back to Hell with a real demon master who'd appreciate when she did...that.

He'd been fucking stupid, letting himself think that he could take on a hellhound, treat her like an invisible trained dog—Sam feeding her scraps under the table, Cas having one of his weird-ass conversations with her like she was human. Maybe she'd bark at a mailman, just for kicks.

He could still feel it, the hounds, when they'd taken him, torn him apart.

It had just been a vampire. It wasn't like Dean was opposed to killing them himself. But what Juliet had done... In that moment, the vampire had looked so  _human_ and...

It was all he could do to not to pull over on the side of the road and heave his guts up.

There was a town a couple miles from where they'd tracked the vamps, a dingy clapboard place with a handful of buildings masquerading as a town center. One of them, a little set back from the main road, was a bar with a few rusted-out pick up trucks and too-shiny bikes parked out front. It was barely dusk, but there wasn't much to do in a town like this, so the drinking started early.

Dean pulled Baby into the dirt parking lot and killed the engine, stalking out of the car and shoving his keys into his pocket before he could change his mind. He barely noticed what the bar looked like—neon signs, dim lighting, pool tables. His mind filled in the rest of the details with any and every other bar he'd ever been to like this. They were all the same, really.

"Whiskey," he told the bartender, a cute brunette twenty- or thirty-something that on any other day would have made him lay on the charm.

"Sure thing," she said, putting a tumbler on the bar. "You got a preference?"

"Cheap."

She frowned. "You got it." She pulled out a bottle and poured him a double without him even asking. He'd leave her a good tip.

After drinking Crowley's Craig lately, this tasted like shit and burned his throat on the way down, but he drank nearly half of it in one go. Good. He needed the wake up call.

_What a fucking asshole, Crowley. Why the fuck did you—_

_(Oh don't play dumb, love. You know why.)_

His grip tightened around the tumbler. It was thick and sturdy, made for heavy and rough hands in a dive like this. If he could have crushed it, though, he might have. If he could have thrown it across the bar, he might have.

Instead, he drained the whiskey, then tapped the rim of the glass when the bartender looked his way. She filled it up again and something on his face must have told her he wasn't in the mood to chat because she moved away quickly once her task was done.

Crowley was gone, the bastard, and the worst of it was that Dean knew exactly why the demon had left everything to him. Hell, he probably even knew that Dean and Sam and Cas wouldn't uphold all the contracts, maybe even _wanted_ them to let some of the victims go.

_(Hardly. The only reason I don't care that you let some of them go is that Hell and the whole miserable lot can bloody well go fuck themselves. I don't give a rat's arse if they get more souls. Let 'em flounder.)_

_Keep telling yourself that._

_(I'm dead, Squirrel. Don't think I'm the one who needs convincing.)_

Shit. Whiskey was a bad idea. Sad thing was, Dean wasn't even sure how long he'd been hearing Crowley in his head, like evil Jiminy Fucking Cricket, but he knew it had been for far longer than he liked. Except Crowley had barely counted as evil, by the end. But Dean sure as shit wasn't going to call him an angel on his shoulder.

Speaking of…

This was probably a bad idea, but what the hell. When was he ever known for good ones?

"Dean?" Cas' voice rasped through the phone's speaker after a couple rings.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "Hey, Cas."

"Are you alright?"

"Fine." It sounded hollow even in his own ears, and he was pretty damn used to his own bullshit.

"Hold on."

There was a pause and Dean could hear Cas speak to someone else. In the background, Mary's voice said something that had Dean's name in it, to which Cas responded, but the voices were too faint for Dean to pick out all the words. A door opened and closed on the other end.

"What's wrong?

"Nothing, Cas. I'm fine, everyone's fine."

"Dean."

Fucking hell. Who thought it was a good idea to teach the angel social skills?

"I fucked up, Cas. I can't...I can't fucking do this, man."

"What did you 'fuck up'?"

Dean almost wished he could appreciate Cas' cursing, as awkward as ever. "Took Juliet on a case. And, uh, it didn't go so good." He could hear Cas suck in a breath, and Dean realized Cas probably assumed he meant one of the soul deals. "Not a contract. Vampires."

"Vampires? Are you hurt?"

"No," Dean said. "Well, got scratched up, but nothing big."

He couldn't see the frown and head tilt from Cas, but he knew they were there.

"I don't understand. What happened?"

"I—" Dean paused. "Nothing. 'S fine. Vamps're dead."

Cas took a second before responding. "I see. And Juliet?"

Dean didn't answer.

"Dean…" Cas exhaled. "I'm sorry, Dean. I can't imagine how hard this must be for you."

"Yeah."

"You know, years ago, I'd just—" There was a snap of fingers on the other end of the line, and with it, Dean could almost hear the rustle of angel wings.

"Yeah." Dean spun the tumbler on the bartop in front of him; the finger of whiskey sloshed against the sides. "So, uh, how's your case? How's Mom?"

Cas, thank whoever was listening, didn't balk at Dean's change of topic. "Fine. We should be done tonight. The poltergeist was well-entrenched in the house and quite powerful, but Mary and I have been able to control the situation. I should be home soon."

 _Home._ It still did something funny to Dean when he heard Cas use the word and mean it.

"I miss you, Dean."

"Me, too," he mumbled. "Hey, uh, sorry to lay this shit on you, man. I'll, uh, let you go. Say hi to Mom for me."

"Dean—"

But he hung up the phone, feeling like a dick even as he did so.

His phone vibrated in his hand before he could put it back in his pocket. A text message.

 

 **CAS:** Be safe, Dean. Go home. I'll be there soon.

 

Goddammit. Dean rubbed the back of his neck before tapping out a reply with clumsy, whiskey-addled fingers.

 

 **DEAN:** Im sorry cas  
**CAS:** It's ok. I understand.  
**DEAN:** Shit man that doesnt make me feel better  
**DEAN:** Cant u be fucking pissed at me or smthg  
**CAS:** Do you want me to be angry?

 

Yes. No. Fuck, when did things get so complicated?

_(Oh please. Things were never simple with you two morons. Comedy, tragedy, every trope known to man and probably some you've invented with the utterly ridiculous amount of pining and angst and—)_

_Shut up, Crowley._

The unanswered text seemed to grow bigger and bigger as he stared at it.

 

 **DEAN:** No  
**CAS:** Are you sure? I'm quite good at it. I've had plenty of practice. :)

 

Dean's mouth quirked up. Cas might have had either the worst sense of humor or the driest, most deadpan sarcasm Dean had ever met, and he had come across plenty. And then there were other moments when the guy was a total fucking dork. And he loved it.

The thought stopped him cold. If it were possible for his brain to record-scratch, it did.

Except, yeah. That was exactly it, wasn't it?

_(About bloody time.)_

Dean rolled his eyes, then unlocked his screen again, which had gone dim while he'd had a mini-inner crisis.

 

 **DEAN:** Whatever it was u were mad at me for it was sams fault  
**CAS:** My mistake. I'll be sure to let him know.  
**DEAN:** Awesome

 

But he couldn't leave it like that. With another gulp of whiskey, he typed out one last message, short and sweet.

 

 **DEAN:** And thanks  
**CAS:** Of course, Dean.

 

He pocketed the phone, feeling marginally better about the whole situation. Taking out his wallet, he fished out a few bills and tossed them on the bar next to his empty glass. It was way too much to cover just drinks and tip, but he found he didn't care about waiting to make change. He shoved his wallet back in his pocket and stood up.

There was a bark outside. Every head in the bar looked up, but almost like they weren't sure exactly what they'd heard. The lights flickered once, and the eyes all glanced up. There was a communal shrug, as though everyone had decided that the brief power surge was the reason they'd been distracted in the first place, and they returned to their drinking or pool.

Dean, however, froze.

She'd found him.

He ran a hand over his jaw, then squared his shoulders and walked towards the exit, mentally kicking himself for leaving the glasses on the passenger seat.

It was full dark when he stepped outside, and the parking lot was lit by only a sickly orange streetlight. Even so, it was enough to see the paw prints in the dirt as Juliet paced between the cars and the bikes.

He had to get out of here, if for no other reason than the fact that he was upset and she might assume the people inside were the reason. Hell, she'd growled at Cas for less. He was almost surprised they didn't have a bloodbath on his hands.

A bloodbath.

Whiskey and memories churned in his gut and he walked determinedly to the Impala. Behind him, he could hear Juliet following until she paused. The bar door opened and several bikers poured out, almost literally, all joking and pushing each other around before settling on their bikes. Juliet growled and snarled as they revved their bikes, but she didn't move from her position between Dean and the motorcycles. Eventually, the bikers took off in the other direction and the parking lot was quiet again.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief and turned on his heel, ignoring her curious whines. Without a word, he got into the car and left.

**Author's Note:**

> We promise, Dean'll be ok eventually, and so will Juliet. 
> 
> Click here to return to [Chapter 9](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11709525/chapters/26860935) of Well Endowed.
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